Dreams Are Sweeter Than Reality.

Rephaim knew he was dreaming; he had sensed it almost immediately. The more his eyes took in his new environment the more it was confirmed. The vibrant colors, the over all sense of peace- if he wasn’t entirely positive that he was sleeping in the basement with Stevie Rae he would think he were dead.

“Dream,” he whispered to the soft breeze that swirled around lifting a few of the feathers that covered his chest and back. The sensation brought with it disappointment for the Raven Mocker; it was a dream after all, even here he didn’t deserve a different appearance. With a shrug that lifted those massive wings, he stepped further into the world his mind had somehow managed to conjure. There was a garden off to his left and with it the gentle sounds of water. He was drawn to it for reasons he didn’t understand, but quickly brushed it off as it being the work of this unusual dream. As he neared there was a woman sitting on the ledge of the beautiful stone fountain. She was braiding an eagle feather into her waist-length hair, the color as black as his wings. He was close enough to her that he was able to hear the soft melody of her voice as she sang a lullaby in Cherokee. He didn’t understand why he was being so quiet, or why he was still watching her with a hunger that had nothing to do with the anger or violence he was so accustomed to. He felt a strong connection to this woman and as he took a step closer, the woman stopped singing and turned to face him. Rephaim was shocked in place by those eyes that were filled with so much love; love that was so incredibly fierce it penetrated his entire being and try as he might he couldn’t look away.

“My a-yo-li...” the words were hushed but Rephaim heard them easy as if she had shouted them from the other end of the garden. She stood, taking slow but deliberate steps towards him. He began to shake his head, this dream was turning into a nightmare. He didn’t want to see or know the woman that had died in a flood of pain and blood to bear a monster that was the product of rape and anger. “You are no monster,” she said as her hand reached out to touch his shoulder. He was going to disagree but the warmth from her palm radiated throughout his body and slowly like water rinsing away dirt, his feathers fell from his body. He stood before her naked, the image of the boy he could have been had his fate been different. A boy that would have known his mother’s love, that would have lived to be someone she could be proud of.. “You are no monster, my son.” She repeated and Rephaim lifted his head, eyes shining bright with tears he didn’t dare allow to fall and met her gaze again. “I am my father’s son. I was born a monster from the first breath I took and I will die a monster with the last.” He knew this, he had lived with this truth for centuries, but as he looked to the Cherokee maid Rephaim began to understand that maybe there was another truth. “You are of my blood,” she whispered gently as if with these words could solve the problems that started to weigh heavy on his shoulders. She was the reason his heart had began to open like a blooming flower, allowing Stevie Rae to enter. It was through her blood that he was able to turn to his humanity.

His mother brought her hand back to her side and began to turn away as Rephaim’s body went back to that of a large raven. He reached out, wanting to keep the woman at his side and maybe through touch bring her to the real world. So long had he gone without ever knowing her and now he was greedy with her image. His hand though, went straight through her form as she began to disappear- no, as he began to wake up. “No!” he screamed as the tears slide down his beak, “not yet.” The Raven Mocker could sense the coolness of the basement and still he tried desperately to remain asleep. His mother looked at him from over her shoulder, smiled once more before saying the words that had torn him awake.

“Gv-ge-yu-hi, u-we-sti.”

Rephaim opened his eyes to find his hands outstretched, reaching for a woman that could only ever exist in his dreams...

A/N: We're almost sure we got the Cherokee words right, but if we didn't don't murder us.